My Guardian Angel
by momomagic
Summary: Alex Watcher, a swordsman disqualified from the knight guild for not meeting the height standards for knighthood, finds himself a guardian angel...the Sniper Gabriele
1. Chapter 1

BMy Guardian Angel/B

There should be greying clouds looming over the forest by now, but that's the weather for you. It seems to be accepted how that whenever something undesirable should happen, an omen would appear to tell us of our inevitable fate.

Destiny, however, thought otherwise. You're still going to be the collision dummy for a rampant meteorite, or the next unsuspecting target of a mugger. He'd hand out omens for kicks, not warning. It was a pretty old joke now, anyway.

So today, a clear sky of slightly-deep blue hugged the sky, without a single cloud to harass it.

Chapter 1:

QUOTEBIn which we cover/B

-A walk in the forest

-The dangers of pulling orange tufts of hair

-Guardian angels

-Angels

-Not guardians

-The linkages of acolytes and maces

-The general acceptance of random occurrences/QUOTE

The unmistakeable stench of green filled the nostrils of a young acolyte. It was funny, how colour would have smell. Green was green, though it might have had a tinge of manure seasoning the jolly moistness it flaunted. (usually in forests) Especially in Payon's forests. But that was beside the point.

Vermin (yes, IVermin/I), a shabby black-haired acolyte, trudged through the sea of shrubs, following the wake of Alex Watcher, with his thick mass of blonde hair, a proud member of the swordsman guild, though disqualified from knighthood for insulting the generic knight's acceptable height standards. (5'1 tall, as compared to 5'9, respectively)

They were hunting, of course, as exhibited by Alex's ready drawn sword (bloody, too), and Vermin's tight but nervous grip on a rather disturbing mace (not bloody).

"I think I see another one," said Alex.

"Another what?" Vermin squealed. His face was in the sort of contorted expression you would expect to see when a man sees death in the eye. How the wrinkles start bunching up on the forehead, how cold sweat skis down your Alpine face. We call it fear.

"Mushroom," said Alex responsively.

"One of the purple ones?" Vermin squealed, still in pandemonium.

"Yes," Alex said with great consideration.

The Poison Spore, as Alex so accurately pointed out, glanced in their general direction. It bounded about happily for a moment, before hopping over to Alex, who was closer.

It took about five seconds for it to leap to Alex. Even then, it was only halfway up Alex's own height.

It made a pitiful lash out towards Alex with its mushroom cap. Alex took the hit unmoved emotionally and physically. It was then Alex decided it was a good time to bring his blade down on the thing.

With a squeal, the spore obliged to lay dead on the floor, in two pieces, and opted to drop a bunch of green herbs for Alex from seemingly out of nowhere.

"…is it over?" Vermin asked in his shaky voice, eyes shielded by his hands.

"Yes," Alex said with all his quick wits would allow.

Vermin peeped from between his fingers, only to find the mangled and very much dead body of the poison spore. A greyish grey substance was oozing from its freshly opened innards, as you would expect any non-human monster to do.

"Oh," Vermin mumbled, surveying the corpse, "I thought it hit you really bad…"

"…"

"Are you bleeding?" Vermin asked anxiously.

Alex surveyed his thigh. It wasn't armoured by a steel plate, like his shin was, and it was covered only by the cotton fabric of his pants. Blood failed to ooze out from his veins.

"No," Alex said, putting care into every word he articulated.

Vermin scrutinized Alex critically with unbelieving eyes, then accepted fate and moved on.

"Say, what's that rectangular thing on the mushroom?" Vermin pointed out.

It was a small brownish rectangle of some sort, bordered in silver and the very finely drawn portrayal of an eye firmly embedded in the centre of it. It was a card; a genuine card. From a Imushroom/I.

"How did Ithis/I come about?" Vermin thought aloud, twirling the card between his fingers. He sighted the picture of a mushroom; a poison spore similar to Alex's last kill, on the back of the card, and frowned at it suspiciously.

Alex, on the other hand, paid no heed to Vermin, bending down instead to take a few spores from the Spore's spore sac. He lumped them in a small leather bag, which he tied up carefully with its lace, and promptly snatched the card out of Vermin's grip.

"Hey!" Vermin exclaimed, "I wanted that!"

Alex brushed past another set of bushes, oblivious to Vermin's words.

Vermin had his hands to his hips, pouting. Alex had these little moments of silence whenever he was concentrating very hard on something. It was as if he had just leapt into the action, even if he wasn't actually jumping, much less moving, his every action controlled and voluntary, from the every precise step of his boots, to his very own heartbeat. Conversation had come to a subconscious level. He was fully aware of his surroundings, and yet, he could only see his prey. A friend of Vermin said it was an unnurtured assassin trait.

Not that it mattered. It made hunting a lot easier for Vermin. All he had to do was point and wait. Vermin could take care of himself; all he needed was for you to stand perhaps five feet away from him, and he wouldn't have to worry about you getting caught mid-swing.

Not that he actually worried; you weren't his prey, so you were blotted out of his senses too.

Vermin prodded the corpse of the late poison spore. How the heck did a card jump out of it, suddenly? What cosmic power in the universe declared that cards now sprouted spontaneously from hopping, aggressive, Ipurple/I fungi mutants? The lord above had a sense of humour, it seemed.

Suddenly, Vermin was alone.

The sounds of Alex's wake changed from the usually shuffling of his boots, to the squealing, screams and groans of various monsters.

It was very easy to spot Alex too, it seemed. No wonder why he isn't a thief or an assassin.

Then again, you could hear any swordsman tip-toeing from a mile away.

Vermin scurried after his companion, eager to pick after the leftovers of the hunt.

"I had no idea killing hundreds of raccoons could increase your intellectual capacity," stated Vermin.

"Yes," said Alex, with great dignity.

"And it was nice of that angel to announce 'level up!' to me…" Vermin continued, "I mean, spontaneously appearing and vanishing before us and all. But I don't get the drift. What does level up mean, anyway? I mean, I don't need an extra level in my house; my family's small enough as it was, and I'm sure as hell's sure that I won't want my house to be levelled from the ground either…" (Vermin lives with his pet cat. None else)

"…" Alex didn't say much. Probably considering the optimum strategy to approach the situation.

In actual fact, Alex didn't think much. He was a simple person, and a quiet one to boot. He would silently observe his surroundings, speaking only when he had to, but mostly, he was just silent.

Most people mistook him for all his worth, however. Many instantly assumed that simple was stupid. This was not the case. Alex didn't so much as whisper a word, nor would he do much when he was left to his own devices, but he was intelligent. Quick witted. For all it seemed, Alex could tell you what one thousand and seventy-three times sixteen over ninety seven point three eight four one zero two was in five seconds flat.

But he didn't.

And that was why he was simple.

"Say," Vermin began, striking the wet match of conversation, "Why do you use that sword of yours? I mean…it looks kind of short…you know, swordsmen and knights usually go for the big bad broadsword. Makes them look tougher, you know."

"Why do you use a mace," Alex stated. It didn't sound like an actual question.

Vermin paused at that. That was a pretty perplexing question, whenever somebody asked. Maces generally had spikes, or are very heavy; especially morning stars, which qualified for both qualities, and anybody who had the fortune to ever meet with such steelwork face to face (literally) would truly understand the definition of eternal pain.

Acolytes were forbidden to wield sharp bladed weapons…so they looped around the 'bladed' part of the rule, and discovered the secret of the mace. It was perfect. You could beat the laughing guy pointing at your dress-like uniform at your pleasure, without violating any of the acolyte's armaments rule. (though most acolytes went all out sissy and held staves and rods instead. Pity) Plus, you were technically supposed to heal the wounded. Well, there's your wounded for you.

Vermin, knowing the answer, yet being the compulsive liar he was, replied with his hand scratching the back of his head falsely, "No idea."

There was a scream of silence.

"How's your family?" Vermin desperately continued.

"Dead," Alex stated.

"Really?" Vermin replied, finally finding something he could relate to, "Mine too."

"…"

"You know," said Vermin on the roll, "It's funny, how the main characters of all those stories we read seem to have dead families, and it's always him or her living under his or her evil generic step-mum's roof, tormented by her obnoxious daughters, running away and finding their perfect love who dies anyway. I don't get it. What is it with writing about characters with dead families?"

"…"

"And there's always that guardian, interfering in the love affairs of the soapier stories. 'No, you can't be near the mistress! No, I don't trust you! No, you cannot be in love with the mistress!' It really cracks me up, reading that junk over and over again. I mean, every time it's the same thing. You could even recite what that character's lines without reading the book before! I mean, can't they write a single story with the guardian actually caring for the main character for once…"

"He's not a guardian," said Alex suddenly.

"Wha…?"

"A guardian is a protector. You protect someone if they are in danger. You are in danger if your mental or physical stability is jeopardised. You are not in danger if you let someone confess to you."

It was Vermin's turn to be silent now. He enjoyed these little moments, when Alex spoke. It was strange, really. Speaking was a very natural thing to do, yet when a usual very quiet person spoke; it was as if a man stood up from his wheelchair; nothing short of miraculous.

Ruining it with more questions wouldn't bring much good, so Vermin was silent.

"And that angel…" continued Vermin later on, but he was cut short the moment the '-gel' bit of angel spilled from his mouth.

"An angel is a messenger of god, a judge for those worthy of given a second chance at life. They honour you with their presence when fate declares you unready to embrace death. Angels are rare, by nature. They are not for the mortal eyes to hunger upon."

"So, if they're so rare, why did I just see one…and about fifteen more before that last one this week?" Asked Vermin.

"That wasn't an angel," Alex stated, "That was a guardian angel."

"Is there a difference?"

"…"

It was a small, narrow clearing in the woods. A big improvement as compared to the countless undergrowth of bushes and overgrown weeds the duo had to waddle through for the past seventeen minutes. It might seem like a short while to you, but if you've been pampered by the city life for the past fourteen years, you do Inot/I want your shoes to be covered in half an inch of muck, and your skin bleeding from grass cuts.

Alex, on the other hand, had half an inch of Iarmour/I clad to his skin. Leather and steel plating had their ups. You wouldn't feel a porcupine under your sole, much less mud.

A few crickets chirped their little wings' songs, inviting mate and birds of prey alike to relish it. A falcon obliged gleefully and swooped down on the cricket, taking it airborne in its taloned grip.

"Say," Vermin mentioned to Alex, "did I just see a Ipurple/I falcon?"

"Yes."

"With a scarf."

"Yes."

"And a Ihelmet/I."

"Yes."

"And you don't find that strange?" exclaimed Vermin, exasperated.

"No," replied a stony Alex.

It was just unnerving, when you're around a simple person. It's as if they took in everything and readily accepted it as they were, no matter how illogically impossible it seemed. Vermin had seen people spinning on their buttocks at impossible speeds (Iwithout moving their legs/I), getting struck by a wizard's meteor without any apparent harm, die from a very light prod (1hp), and even saw another fellow acolyte using a Isword/Imace. (By acolyte standards, defying their code of conduct was the highest level of heresy any acolyte could achieve)

And yet, Alex could look on impassively. He just watched, took it all in, and moved on. It wasn't a bad thing; dwelling on everything didn't do much good to anyone before. (Must be that knight endurance training) But it was just…unnatural. It wasn't supposed to be that way. You're supposed to be shocked, stunned, baffled, even if it were just mild surprise. Showing no emotions at all was just…

Alex was simple. He didn't put too much thought into everything.

And truly he didn't, because there was a large tuft of orange hair in the bushes, in front of him. Without a second thought, it was Alex's hand reaching out for it to give it a pull and see what happened…

What happened was the orange tuft moved. It moved so that what you were seeing was no longer orange hair. It sprouted legs, arms, but more accurately, it sprouted Iclaws/I. A large shaggy head materialised from the bushes, beady black eyes staring down at the now dwarfed figure of Alex. A pipe was in its hands, and if you looked really closely (you won't), you could probably see little motes of fire inside the Eddga's eye.

"Oh dear," muttered Vermin.

The Eddga let loose a bestial roar, flinging unwanted bits of spittle onto Alex.

"Shouldn't we be running by now?" Vermin suggested quietly.

In most fairy tale scenarios, any unorthodox creature of immense size should be allowed a battle cry, a moment to pound on its chest or stomp the ground with it's paw/hoof (delete where appropriate) and would give the main characters of the story a five second head start, before unleashing an immense rampage of unstoppable force coming at you at approximately twenty-five to thirty miles per hour.

Thankfully, the trends of reality followed this, or Alex would have been flailing about helplessly as the Eddga devours him with unrestricted glee. (But more likely, he would just lie there, accepting that he was being eaten)

Vermin should be twenty yards from the Eddga by now. He should have been outpaced by the Eddga, and turned into a delicious morsel for the biped tiger. He should be filling the forest with his agonising screams and many disturbing noises normally inherent to the tearing of flesh. He should be, but he isn't.

Alex had pulled him away from his current and doomed-to-be course. They made a quick dive behind some narrowly spaced trees, slithering left and right, dancing through the weave of nature. It wasn't as fast as running; by right, any sane person should be running like there was no tomorrow. Not that there'd be a tomorrow anyway, even if you did run. But Alex was simple. So simple that ideas came to him a lot quicker than an average person would ever achieve. (these people were usually preoccupied with thoughts of "OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE I'M GOING TO DIE")

This route was a lot slower, yes. But for all the body mass the Eddga had in muscle, it didn't quite fit through the trees' trunks.

And as we all know, trees are naturally indestructible. Why do you think we harvest tree trunks and branches from Willows?

They were a good distance from the Eddga by now, and were greeted by the cheery dead-end of the grey stone of a mountain.

Luckily for them, the Eddga wasn't catching up to them, as the script would usually state.

"Oh…we're safe!" Exploded Vermin in a sigh, leaning against the stony wall.

He changed his mind when a ball of fire consumed the upper half of his biretta.

"On second thought…any other bright ideas?"

"No," replied Alex with all confidence.

"Great…" Vermin mumbled, "So, what next?"

Alex sidestepped, let another fire ball pass harmlessly beside him, and felt some rock splinters shower his back.

"We wait."

"What?"

"We wait."

"I mean," Vermin uttered desperately, "Wait? Here? Are you crazy!" Vermin leapt away just in time to dodge another fire ball, which should have blown his chest into itty bitty little pigeon food.

Crazy? Yes, Alex was mad, in the general view of the public. He was calm wherever he was, no matter how deathly the situation was, and being calm was madness. He should be running around in little circles now, whelping and crying out for his mommy. But he wasn't. He was as calm as a brick.

And that was why he was mad.

Of course, Alex wasn't really mad. He was just too unmoved to be any good in the sanity department of Prontera. He was just waiting. Not for an opportunity, not for some opening to dash out and present themselves voluntarily to the Eddga and let it gleefully shred the both of them into some very red coleslaw. (as any average person would do)

He was waiting. For her.

"Mmffkl," said Vermin, shielding his head from…dirt? "Is that a landslide?"

Great, more problems, thought Vermin.

Of course, it wasn't a real landslide. You get dirt falling off the edge of a mountain when something, or say, Isomebody/I, was sliding down the edge, disrupting the restful state of earth particles. And every once in a while, that something or somebody would squash an unsuspecting hiker, sending both down into a fatality, where the mystery of death would finally be unveiled to them.

Vermin should pray well to his deity, for this was not the case.

That 'something' turned out to be a 'somebody'. There was a blur of motion and a shade of darkness (commonly seen when a new character has not been introduced in proper) as the figure darted up and above Vermin and Alex, and onto the ground ahead of them.

She (it was definitely a she; males don't (usually) have two huge masses of rounds or have smooth silky hair which flowed like the wind. They don't fit) landed on the ground, crouched low with a red recurve bow in hand, five crystalline arrows glistening blue in the dim of the forest. She had her back to them, but it was evident, with her yellow fur-lined tank, red scarf and a leather-brown miniskirt, that she was a sniper.

The Eddga had launched another fire ball at the trio, though it still hadn't noticed the sniper's presence.

The sniper nocked an arrow and pulled the cord of her bow so quickly, so swiftly, that by the time you've completed one cycle of a blink, there were three arrows impaled into the Eddga.

It was incredible. The first arrow was deep within the skull of the Eddga. The second one pierced Ithrough/I the first arrow, sending the arrow deeper into the skull, and the third one pierced through Iboth/I those arrows, and it was evident the blade-tipped stem sticking out from the opposite side of the Eddga was not in any way natural.

By the time Vermin managed to meagrely comprehend these thoughts, fifty more arrows were embedded in the Eddga. Permanently.

With a disgruntled moan, the Eddga fell to the ground, giving in to fate. Death gladly took over.

Vermin, still reviewing with all the wisdom of kelp, tried to remember if he saw the sniper's arm move. He couldn't. His limited brain power prohibited him from seeing the perfect agility the sniper had demonstrated. It was like an astronomer Ijust/I missing a scheduled supernova.

"How did she do that?" Vermin whispered to himself.

There was a short moment of stillness, where only the swaying of leaves budged.

Then, Alex moved. He stepped up, just beside the sniper, who turned out to be about a foot taller than Alex.

The sniper spun around slowly, panting steadily from the strenuous exertion of body, and regarded Alex.

She had eyes; with eyes so blue the sky would look green. Hair so long and blonde a single gust of wind would burst it into glorious dance. She was beautiful, no doubt. All mysterious female characters that intervene with the main characters are pretty. There was something about her that made you believe that she would be willing to reach down and bite off Alex's head off. It wasn't that she looked mean; she had a very soft look. It was that face you make after you had a very hearty bar fight with your mates, which could cause everybody in a radius of ten feet to shun you.

Alex reached out for her hand, took it gracefully in his own, and pecked it lightly, as would a knight to his princess, and turned back to Vermin.

"You asked what a Guardian Angel is," Alex said, still holding onto the sniper's hand, "This is your answer."


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining. No, don't say it should have been a bright and sunny day, with children playing and merchants raving. That _would_ be the optimum weather for a happy occasion, but the trends of reality work well away from most ideals.

The blanket of pearly things suddenly decided to begin its usual raid across the city of Payon, quickly changing the minds of those who had thought it would have been a good day for mountain spelunking. (As it turns out, it was a Igreat/I day for mountain spelunking. Especially if you're out already) Children squealed gleefully in the now plentiful puddles as their much dismayed parents could only watch on helplessly.

Destiny's sadistic mechanism had kicked into play.

Chapter 2:

**In which we cover  
**

-Ungovernable weather (complete)

-Invisible weather

-The suspicious lack of population amongst cities

-The obviousness of stalking

-Relationships

-The basis of healing the undead

-Uncanny dodging prowess

-The bottomless inventory

-Gabriel: the little in the big

-----------------------------------

"So this is Payon," said Vermin.

"Yes," said Alex.

"And you mentioned it was raining," said Vermin again.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"…"

"I mean, if it's raining, where are those little sky projectiles you call 'rain'?"

"…"

"Right, now you're going to tell me you're in some alternate universe with high-rise buildings and you're living in a house sandwiched a hundred feet up in the air in-between two other houses atop each other, and you're going to go shut the windows to keep the rain out while your conscious body in this world freezes up as your soul performs a inter-dimensional leap into that other universe of yours."

"…"

"Wait, you've frozen up again?"

"No."

"Oh, good."

And here was Payon, in all its green glory. Traditional Chinese houses filled your sight the moment you walked in; or at least, after you've gone through the first city wall. A guard was there to greet them as they walked past, and a man here and there, but that was about it. No performers in the street, no kids leaping about, not a soul on the street. If you had to skim through the list of citizens of Payon to find a man called 'Wen Hei', it wouldn't take you a minute.

It had the usual people you'd meet though, the Kafra representative of Payon ("Hello, adventurer! The Kafra Cooperation will always be with you…" and that was all they heard as Vermin hurried them both away), Mrs Smile (though Vermin suspected she was a twin to the one in Prontera…or Izlude…or Morroc…or Geffen…), and the local smiths (funny how they'd always say and sell the same things in ever city, thought Vermin), and random groupies hanging out in the city square (some apparently inert).

And there was a funny thing about vendors. They have a cart about half a metre in length and things much smaller than it, but by some optical miracle Vermin was able to view every detail of the goods within the cart twenty feet away. Technology these days.

"I wonder what 'afk' means?" Vermin thought aloud. A few possibilities sprung up. 'Another Fill of Keg', 'Ain't Finking, Kay?' and 'Aww Fing Knaves' made up the majority of them.

"…"

"Ah," said Vermin understandably. Alex was the kind who didn't like answering too many questions; and Vermin's capacity of 'many' was slowly nearing the millions.

"So, who was the lady sniper that saved us just now?" Vermin continued, viewing more shops with his telescopic vision.

"…"

"The one you called your guardian angel."

"Gabriele."

"Who?"

"Gabriele."

"Oh," Vermin said nonplussed. Alex was a problem, saying things so simply. It usually took one of his restatements before you actually understood.

Vermin glanced into the bush on the far right of their position, and looked back at Alex, "You know, I think your Gabriele's stalking us, from those bushes over there."

"…"

"In fact, I saw her dodging from tree trunk to tree trunk, when we were still in the forest. And I remember seeing her rolling behind the buildings to avoid us."

"…"

"What's the deal with that? I mean…we don't bite…and she saved us once, so shouldn't we be the one following her around? And…how the heck did I see her anyway? I Idistinctly/I remember seeing her with my eyes looking the opposite direction. In fact, I think I got an aerial view of the entire place."

"Gabriele likes to stalk people," said Alex.

It was one of those times he actually spoke again. Vermin awed at this rare happening once more, before ending the moment, "A stalker, huh? But doesn't she know you pretty well?"

"She has a crush on me."

"You! Of all people. How did…wait, I have a feeling I don't want to know."

Vermin's mind flicked into self-confinement. Well, looking at it one way, this couple were much better off than beauty and the beast (needless to say), but there _were_ a few things between you can't deny were...peculiar .

First would be their height. It seemed Snow White had cantered off with one of the seven dwarves. Alex's and Gabriele had such disproportional heights that any matchmaker would be driven insane by the sheer effort of how the two love birds (or love hummingbird and ostrich) could ever have the probability that they'd be coupled.

Second, anybody who loved Alex must have been paid to do so. It was one of those things in the world a person was allowed to like, but would be generally labelled a freak if he obsessed over it. It was just that he was too I_simpleI_. Anybody in their right mind would be driven insane after a month of living with him. Every non-ordinary action he performed meant another point for your mind in regression.

And third, it seems any true relationship between the two would be impossible if one was stalking the other. Unless of course they had a long distance telepathic relationship; that would explain Alex's silence...

Nah.

"So," the voice of Vermin loomed behind Alex, "Why don't you call her over?"

"I mean, introduce Gabriele to me! I'd go spare if I couldn't meet the girl of my friend's dream! Besides, secrets are a girl thing, right?"

Morbid silence ensued.

"Okay..." Vermin mumbled, "So you're not the average Joe I know...wait, that rhymes..."

"She likes to stalk people," said a spontaneous Alex. His eyes never wavered away once, not that he was looking at Vermin anyway, "It keeps her happy."

"You like secret admirers?" Vermin teased.

"I like guardian angels," stated Alex. And that was all.

It was amazing, how impossibly simple or honest words could end a conversation right there and then. All you had to know was what they were, and you could stop a preacher from doing his sermons.

"Well, this is dandy," Vermin noted as a large purple falcon swooped towards the duo. It was the same one they saw in the forest, odd ornaments still adorning its body…plus a new one…

"Is that a IhammerI I see in its beak?"

The falcon dived.

The falcon exploded.

Beyond all fundamental laws of explosions, the falcon flew cheerily in the direction of Gabriela. (one of the laws was that anything directly within the explosion was obliterated (except trees))

"Did you just see that?" piped Vermin.

"Yes."

Vermin gave up. There was no reasoning with a simple man, because everything presented to him was immediately accepted.

"I wonder who that falcon belongs to? Blowing up like that. Curious that it was heading for Gabriele, though," said a Vermin with his hands cupped over his eyes.

"Gabriele's," stated Alex.

"Wha...oh," Vermin was getting used to him, at least. If Alex said anything, it meant that he was answering your question. Plus, if you ignore the logic behind his answers, that would be a bonus.

"It's…a cave," said Vermin.

And so it was. Behold, the blithering dim of forever darkness, winding determinately through the crust of the earth. Volatile forms of chiropterans spewed forth from the bowls of the cave, letting loose an eerie chorus of screeches before disintegrating their pyrophoric bodies in the warmth of the sun.

It failed to achieve the desired level eeriness.

"You know, it'd really help if your Gabriele could distract some of those hulking zombies over there. You know…throw rocks at them or something while we…throw more rocks at them?"

Vermin was good at thinking. He didn't suggest throwing his mace or Alex's sword at them. (Now Istones/I on the other hand were bloody brilliant. Ever seen an acolyte throwing stones?)

Alex looked from Gabriela to Vermin, then from Vermin to Gabriele. He gave an almost invisible nodding gesture to Gabriela.

Gabriele shied out from her hiding place obediently, eying Vermin conspiratorially as she stood by Alex.

Alex whispered something into Gabriele's ear, and she replied with a nod. She took a few steps toward the yammering zombies…

…and plopped onto the floor.

It was Vermin's turn to be suspicious of Alex. He jerked a questioning eyebrow at Alex's relative position, only to find that he had displaced himself five feet further from Vermin, and was seated too.

The zombies looked stupidly at the motionless sniper. It was human. It was larger than the other two mulling about behind her. It had more flesh to chew on. And so the zombies decided to lumber towards Gabriele, making the usual generic zombie sounds and anticipating lunch already.

"You know, that's wasn't what I had in mind…" complained Vermin.

"Heal them," beckoned Alex.

"Wha…wait, don't answer," Vermin considered this for a while. 'Them' was referring to 'those bunch of brain sucking zombies over there'. 'Heal' referred to the donning of healing powers upon chosen being. So healing zombies would undoubtedly be beneficial to them, as their already mortal wounds and decompositions would be revitalised if Vermin followed Alex's advice, and give them an extra edge in terms of muscle power, meaning Gabriele would be inflicted with more pain than necessary, and ending with a very dismayed Alex. (Though the thought was interesting)

All in all, Vermin surmised Alex's proposal as a 'bad idea'.

Meanwhile, the zombies were now surrounding Gabriele with zombie malice (in other words, 'urggghhh'). They lashed out with unheroic strength and invariable might. They managed the improbable (if not impossible). They missed Gabriele completely.

Gabriele had that '?' look on her face as the zombies produced arm after flailing arm before her, somehow landing only a few inches from her face but never actually touching or much less hurting her in any way. The zombies persisted to assault her with erroneous ignorance. (Much to their own glee, of course; every hit meant a hit closer to a meal, according to zombie theology)

As the zombies continued their endless crusade against the invincible Gabriele, Vermin turned back to Alex. "I don't think your idea's a very good one," he mused.

"Heal them," Alex repeated.

"Look, what good would that do…"

"Heal them."

This is why ignoring logic paid off. You weren't reward the Nobel Prize for debate and discussion if you cussed at Alex for half your life.

"If you say so," shrugged a Vermin in a 'whatever' mood.

Green tendrils of energy sprung forth around one of the varying zombies around Gabriele, and healed it.

Of course, the zombie didn't flex its newly grown muscles of anything. You can't, because technically, if your arm was alive and you're undead, you'd lose control over the thing because it had lost its undeathlyness. It's like life, really; you can't control a part of your body which doesn't have life in it, can you?

Interesting, thought Vermin. It became apparent that the mechanics of the world didn't work idealistically. God doesn't hand out freebies to you even if you pray to him five times a day. Cows don't actually go 'moo', contrary to popular belief (they make a 'nyuuuuu' sound instead. You could even hear the 'u's extending out)

And apparently, zombies don't become stronger once you've healed them.

So off Vermin went, healing the poor lads. They were still enticed by Gabriele, who was lying down in a lazy sort of way, oblivious to the invalid omen of doom before her.

And soon, all the zombies became healthy individuals once more; meaning they were dead. (no longer undead, to put it another way)

The blare of trumpets erupted above Vermin as his guardian angel bounded off his head with karate-like force and leapt up above him, wings arced wide. 'Level up!' she said. '!#$' said Vermin. She soon vanished in her mysterious way, and fizzled out of reality.

"There she is again," Vermin muttered ominously, "IMy/I guardian angel. You're lucky to have a non-violent Cherub flaunting you with praise."

"…"

"Anyway, what mystical expulsion of random items do we have this time?" Vermin kneeled beside Gabriele, who rose up to observe Vermin keenly, "Looks like…a few decayed nails, a bit of goo, a pair of shoes…sandals, by the looks of it and…hmm, an opal."

Alex had snatched the shoes while Vermin studied the opal, stuffing it into a small pouch hanging from his belt.

"Say," Vermin cited, "Didn't you already have a potion in that pouch?"

"Yes," replied Alex.

"So…how do you stuff a pair of shoes twice the size of that pouch…wait, don't bother answering, I'll have to see it to believe it."

Vermin trotted over to Alex, and yanked the pouch into his face. What he saw was not a pair of smelly shoes, or a bottle of potion.

What he saw was Ihundreds/I of gleaming potion bottles, with the shoes lost somewhere in-between the potions. He also spotted a cutlass, a full set of plate armour, greaves, various headgears and a butterfly.

The bag was practically a twelve foot pit, by the looks of it. Vermin didn't bother looking back down again.

"Okay…so that's how you've been carrying all those stuff around."

Vermin decided that this was one of those times when logic didn't play a very big role in the situation.

"Well, I guess I'll just pick off the rest of the loot here and…yup, I think the local merchant would appreciate our efforts and…ahem…pay a bit of bounty for some of the goods," Vermin was gearing into his economic state of mind now. A merchant trait, if you will.

Gabrielle was only a few inches taller than Vermin, but she made all the height she wanted with her status as a sniper. A very Ipowerful/I sniper, one might add, but that'd only make whoever was facing her go into shock much faster. She stood like a giant beside Vermin, looked from his stricken face to the bag of items…then…

"Gimme, gimme, gimme, GIMME!" squealed a very young spirit. It appeared that Gabriele was Ion/I Vermin. Squrming. Arms held out for Vermin's bag. It was daunting, to be flung to the floor by quite a large woman, and of great authority, and pressed against various body parts best not mentioned. She was also quite heavy. (not that acolytes had much strength to lift things)

"You know, Alex!" Vermin yelled to the impassive persona sitting smugly away from the scene, "This situation would be really funny if it weren't me in it! Get my drift! If you wouldn't mind getting your oh-so violent guardian angel off me, my dear friend!"

Vermin swore. Vermin should be laughing, dreading, anything with regards to emotion. But he wasn't. He had a blank face, unmoved by the sudden chain of events, and more importantly, oblivious to Vermin's many ensuing cries of pleas/pain/struggle.

Finally, Gabriele had a hold on Vermin's bag. That was probably because she was sitting on him now, causing Vermin to be breathless, and moreover, unconscious.

"You didn't have to do that," Alex stated.

"Mmm…but these should be your items!" squealed the very young spirit. She branched out her arms (while sitting on Vermin) to present the bag to Alex (while sitting on Vermin), hoping a smile and a little gift would let her get away with it. (while sitting on Vermin)

Alex took Gabriele's hand, but pulled her up from Vermin rather than take the loot from her. He patted her back (Gabrielle's shoulders were a tad uncomfortable to reach for a man of Alex's height) and swept Vermin onto his shoulders. (he still retained his knightly strength)

"This was the deal," Alex whispered to Vermin, who acknowledged him with a gentle snore (apparently, he woke up and slept almost instantaneously), "You let me see your Guardian Angel, I let you see mine."


End file.
